


Destruction

by hiddenlongings



Series: Rough [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first swallow burned all the way down his throat and hit his roiling empty gut with a shock of cold.  His throat ached and ached the more he swallowed and before he knew what was happening he could feel hot tracks of tears as they slid down his face and down his throat and pooled in his collarbone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Reese wanted a drink.  His throat burned and itched as he strode out of the train station’s doors.  If his eyes watered a little well he _really_ wanted a drink was all.  Washington D.C. was as good a city as any to disappear into.  As he stepped onto the street he fiddled with his wallet for a moment as he pulled a driver’s license and the cash out of it before he dumped the rest of it, credit cards, metro card, anything trackable.  Finch could probably track him down but John wasn’t going to make it easy for the older man.

A wave of his hand brought a yellow taxi swooping in and he ducked into and slammed the door shut just as he saw Finch roll slowly out of the stations doors.  John could see Finch’s eyes, searching and scanning for a long moment even as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Reese forced himself to look away and down.

“I’d like to go to the nearest motel.”

He couldn’t regret resorting to murder.  Root had needed to die and he hadn’t even felt the slightest twinge as he slid the needle into her skin.  If he’d been a better man Reese thought the rush of exhilaration and ripple of pleasure that had slipped through him would have made him nauseous.

It hadn’t.

The shame he felt had nothing to do with murder and everything to do with Finch’s stance on it.  He felt a vague sense of relief as the cabbie remained silent.  Dark eyes watched him in the mirror and he knew the older man was keeping an eye on him.

No blood or obvious signs that something was wrong but John knew that a lot of cab drivers had something of a sixth sense.  The guys subconscious was probably twinging.  Reese gave the man a sickly smile that he quickly dropped when the wrinkles around the drivers eyes deepened and he started to look a little worried.

Normally he’d fiddle with his phone to put the man at ease but well he’d left it behind.  So John forced himself to study the scenery that flashed past him without actually seeing anything.  He just really hoped that the guy would get him to the motel as quickly as possible.  

When the man quickly slipped into the parking lot Reese had to bite down hard on a rusty laugh.

The motel was right next to a liquor store.

* * *

Finch could feel the fog of Root’s drugs as it dulled and slowed his mind.  The effort of rolling the hated wheelchair to the station doors was enough to leave him panting and sweating.  Harold’s spine protested the odd position that his arms had to take as he moved and he knew once the drugs finally wore off he’d have a (more) difficult time moving.  

Thankfully the doors were automatic and he was able to get out onto the street quickly enough that he could watch Reese’s retreating form as the tall man slid into a taxi cab.   There eyes met for a brief moment and Finch wondered if Reese could see the silent plea before his partner turned away from him and seemed to draw in on himself even as the taxi drew away from the curb.

Even drugged and exhausted Finch had no trouble memorizing the name and cab number in the brief moment before it turned a corner.

Finch huffed out a frustrated breath before he rolled onto the sidewalk out of anybody’s way and pulled the phone that Reese had left him off of his lap.  Most recent call was to Carter and Finch hit the recall button with a shaking finger before he pulled it up to his ear.

The phone rang for a couple of moments before it was picked up quickly.

 “John?”

 “I’m afraid not Detective.”

 “Finch! It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“I appreciate that Detective.  I do hope that Mr. Reese didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“He took me on a whirlwind tour of small town Texas.  Managed to solve a cold case and apparently find you.”

“Apparently.”

“How is John?  He was frantic.  Beat up more men in a single week than he usually does in a month.”

Finch hesitated for a moment too long and he could hear Carter’s quickly inhaled breath and realized she had reached the wrong conclusion.

“He is fine Detective.  I’m afraid we’re at a bit of a crossroads but we should return to New York very soon.”

“What’s your definition of fine Finch.  If he’s already left you alone after all of the effort he went to to find you something is obviously not okay.”

“Fine was perhaps an exaggeration.” Finch was silent for another long moment as he organized his thoughts.  “Root was something of a nasty surprise and neither of us are feeling our best after the experience.”

Carter was no dummy and she hit the most salient part of the sentence quickly.

“Was?”

“Root will no longer cause problems.  I’m sure the government will be here very soon to pick her up.  I just have to make a simple phone call and she will be removed very quickly.”

He was sure Carter was about to protest the careful wording of that particular sentence when she was cut off by a sharp barking noise.

Finch’s eyes furrowed as he pulled the cellphone away from his face for a moment and gave it a blank stare before he returned it to his ear.

“Have you adopted a dog Detective?”

“Ha!” Carter laughed abruptly.  “Think again man.  Reese adopted the dog.  Bear has been the only thing that’s put a smile on his face since you uh left.”

“Oh.”  

“Yeah.” Carter drawled.  “So when you see our man in a suit could you tell him Fusco’s having some trouble with Dutch pronunciation so he should probably get his butt back here before the dog destroys the station.”

“I will be sure to pass that along Detective.”

“You could call me Carter.  I know it’s a little familiar but I think we’re at that point in our relationship.”

“I wasn’t aware we were in a relationship.  Detective.”

“All right, relationship may be pushing it, but we’re getting there.”

Finch felt a small smile twist his lips before hanging up the phone with a sharp beep.

She wasn’t wrong.

* * *

Reese had more than enough money to pay the cabbie, who bolted from the parking lot with a squeal of tires, plus a room for a week in the dingy motel.  Food might have been pushing it but a couple of bottles of cheap whiskey was well within his budget.

After a week he’d probably end up on the streets, again, so he needed to think about if that was something he wanted to do again or if he wanted to try and keep himself from hitting rock bottom.

The room was a depressing mish mash of ratty chairs and a saggy stained bed.The whole room was ‘decorated’ in burnt orange and the carpet was thinned down to the plastic webbing in several spots.

It felt more familiar than it probably should have as he let his body hit the mattress it squealed and a puff of musty smell wafted up from the duvet that was crumpled on top of it.  John’s fingers trembled as he opened the whiskey bottle.  The clicking of the plastic seal releasing on the bottle made his mouth water and his eyes burn.

The first swallow burned all the way down his throat and hit his roiling empty gut with a shock of cold.  His throat ached and ached the more he swallowed and before he knew what was happening he could feel hot tracks of tears as they slid down his face and down his throat and pooled in his collarbone.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

Finch had never been someone to let something like rules stop him from doing whatever he wanted. The Machine was merely the culmination of this particular character flaw. He had been this way since he was a boy and he would be this way until he dropped dead. Reese might have left him behind at the train station but the glimpse that he had managed to catch of the tall man’s retreating form had left him with a firm impression of desperation and the cab’s number ingrained in his mind.

He had found much more difficult people with a hell of a lot less.

It took less than an hour for Finch to rent a very nice hotel room and to purchase a top of the line laptop that would let him connect with the Machine after some very minor tweaking. It was by no means as sophisticated as the system that he had set up in the library but it would more than do.

Hacking the business that owned the cab that Reese had retreated in turned out to be child’s play. It only took a little over fifteen minutes for Finch to have the electronic records that each of the cab’s used to keep track of who they picked up and where they went.  Another five and he had the address of the motel that the cabbie had dropped Reese off at. He studied a map of the city for a brief moment while he called up the rental company and ordered a car to be brought to the hotel for him.

Finch placed a distracted hand on the back of his neck and he let the welcome heat soak into the throbbing pain that had followed him since his abduction. A deep frown furrowed his face as he noted the liquor store that was right next to the hotel and he had a gnawing feeling of dread. Reese’s face after he had stepped out of the bathroom had been conflicted. There wasn’t a trace of guilt but he had looked at Finch as though he was expecting a blow.

Murder was well within Reese’s capabilities especially if he thought it was for the greater good. He had gone into the bathroom with the sole purpose of killing Root. He had also gone in knowing that he would abandon Finch as soon as he had completed his mission. Why would he leave? All of his efforts had obviously gone into finding and retrieving Finch. He had killed other people while in Finch’s employ how was this any different?

The hotel phone rang and a professionally chipper tone informed him of his cars imminent arrival. Finch heaved himself up from the uncomfortably stylish wooden chair that the hotel had put in front of the desk as he headed towards the door. A sudden thought made him freeze.

The kiss.

He had completely forgotten about it amongst the hubbub of kidnapping and rescue. It had stunned him. The warm dry lips brushing gently against him. Shocking gentleness that had left him motionless. He had thought it was a mistake on Reese’s part. Their friendship had been growing in leaps and bounds as they responded to the never ending Numbers. They had finally managed to capture a particularly slippery blackmailer. He had killed reputations rather than people but often the end result was the same. It had taken weeks of work and some desperate scrambling to dismantle an important piece of helicopter equipment before they finally cornered him.

Finch had felt a bright burst of unfamiliar happiness and he had bought boysenberry muffins, tea, and coffee to celebrate. Reese had barely kissed his lips for more than a moment before he was pulling back abruptly, muttering some sort of apology before he fled the room. Finch hadn’t been able to catch his breath quickly enough to call him back and he had ultimately decided that that was for the best. He had thought Reese had regretted it; perhaps gone to ground for a couple of days with the lovely Zoe Morgan.

Finch shut his eyes slowly as realization crept over him. Reese had pulled away because he hadn’t responded. Shaking his head and muffling a curse Finch hobbled out to the lobby and took the car key from a waiting chauffeur before he pulled himself in to the small car before he peeled out of the parking lot. Finch felt like an imbecile, an unfamiliar and unwanted feeling, as he stepped hard on the gas. In many ways Reese was more fragile than he was. The slightest hint that he was unwanted and the man ghosted out of peoples grips and disappeared into morose solitude. A habit that Finch planned to train out of his partner as soon as he had talked some sense into the younger man.

Root’s death was unfortunate but by no means unforgivable and Finch knew himself well enough to know that if Reese had been kidnapped in such a manner he probably wouldn’t have restrained himself to a single murder. He was against killing in theory; but well he had always had a practical streak that knew the fastest way to get somewhere was in a straight line, no matter the obstacles.

The motel was in the armpit of D.C. and Finch couldn’t restrain a grimace of disgust as he made his way across the uneven concrete. The desk clerk barely glanced up from his skin magazine before he pointed towards Reese’s room. He hadn’t even needed to be bribed. Finch had been prepared for a fair number of scenarios when he finally limped up to the peeling orange of the door.

All of them were predicated on the idea that no matter how emotionally compromised Reese might have been he would have still remembered to lock the door. Finch tried the handle anyways and stared in dismay as the off white piece of metal turned without resistance in his hand. Finch was not exactly built for stealth at this point so he opened the door quietly as he stumped through the doorway and stared in pursed lipped anger at a memory from the past.

It was as though all those months of work had vanished and they were back where they started. Reese passed out in a grungy darkened motel room a bottle of liquor, mostly empty, on the ground next to the bed. As Finch moved nearer his eyes softened. There was a difference. He could see the irritated red around John’s eyes and the drying tracks where tears had slid before he had lost consciousness.

Finch reached forward with a delicate hand that cupped Reese’s strong jaw while he let his thumb swipe gently across the irritated skin. He turned John’s head so that if the man did decide to vomit he wouldn’t choke on it. Reese didn’t so much as twitch, the alcohol and emotional upheaval was enough to exhaust any man. Finch had no doubt though that Reese had been going full throttle for the entirety of his kidnapping. The dark bags underneath John’s eyes were testament to that. If they had been back in New York Finch could have made a discreet phone call and gotten John moved to his hotel room in less than an hour. Here though his contacts were less abundant and he had no chance of bodily moving the large man’s dead weight. So really there was only one option left. 

Finch wrinkled his nose gingerly as he removed his suit. The outfit was sweat stained and dirty. A bit of the blood from his cut palm had darkened the cuff and he would need to change the dressing soon. All of these factors aside Finch still didn’t want to put the quality pieces placed on the frankly filthy recliner that the motel offered. He finally gingerly placed his entire outfit over a radiator that he had swiped clean of the worst of the dust with the stained towel that the bathroom offered.

As he moved throughout the room dressed in a white undershirt and paisley boxers Finch kept up a low murmur of complaints that he directed at the unconscious man in the bed.

“I completely understand not wanting to use your credit card but surely your paper money stores aren’t in such a state that you couldn’t at least afford a motel that doesn’t look like it belongs on the set of an 80’s Horror B-Movie set.”

“When you wake up Mr. Reese we are going to have to have a conversation about your disinclination to ask me questions that pertain directly to you.”

“Off brand whiskey Mr. Reese. Really?”

When Finch finally settled on the opposite side of the bed he let loose a delicate little sneeze as a puff of dust rose from the blanket. Finch sighed again before he removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table. As he settled slowly into the bed Finch slid closer to his partner’s side and soaked up the heat and scent of the man. Whiskey couldn’t completely sour the expensive cologne John preferred and Harold breathed deeply for several long moments before he slipped into exhausted slumber himself.  They would talk.

Soon.


	3. Chapter 3

When the first inconvenient stripe of sunlight slid across his face Reese just threw an arm over his aching forehead and eyes before slipping back into unconsciousness. He didn't notice the way the bed sagged in the middle. He didn't notice the warm weight that was pressed up against his entire right side. He didn't notice much of anything. In his defense he had drank enough whiskey to send lesser men to the hospital. 

The next time he woke up though was a very different story. His head was throbbing and his stomach was roiling but the insistent press of his bladder had him rolling out of the bed to head to the bathroom. Finch's sleep blurred and slightly muffled voice made him start violently enough to set off a wave of nausea.

"Mr. Reese if you are planning on leaving this derelict and moldy motel room I am in full agreement. However if you are attempting to flee from me like a naughty child again we will have words."

John could feel his jaw drop in shock as he stuttered against the apparent apparition in front of him.

"I...You...But..."

The only visible portion of Finch was his spiky hair. It stuck up in its usual tufts from underneath the blanket which slowly slid down to reveal a pair of narrowed blue eyes that looked at him with something approaching reproach.

"In fact, once the worst of your undoubtedly considerable hangover has passed we will be returning to my hotel room. We will eat whatever strikes our fancy on the menu. I will then attempt to have an adult conversation with you. It will be uncomfortable for us both."

"Finch. I don't think that sounds like such a great idea."

"It is an impeccable idea. You're just being your usual stubborn, self-sacrificing self." Finch sniffed indignantly as he sat up fully in the bed for the first time.

"I murdered Root." Reese shifted his weight back and forth as he struggled to not run from the room. Nausea and headache be damned.

"So you said. I do listen to you Mr. Reese." Finch pulled himself stiffly to his feet. Revealing the boxers and undershirt that he had on. Reese was hard pressed to restrain a hysterical guffaw at the sight of the silk paisley boxers. Nothing but the best for his peacock.

"I may have threatened the Machine that I would leave a Number to die at the hands of white supremacist thugs if it didn't tell me where you were."

"How enterprising of you I assume the Number has been safely relocated and the thugs dealt with."

"Uh. Yes."

"Well then." Finch sat on the edge of the bed and began to pull his pants. When Reese was silent for several long moments he turned to look at Reese expectantly. "Anything else?"

"I adopted a military trained Belgian Malinois and I plan on leaving him with you since my apartment doesn't allow dogs."

"Carter said something to that effect although I wasn't aware you were giving him to me."

Reese looked at his still shod feet and let his toes clench in the uncomfortable restraint. "I...I kissed you without permission." 

"Mr. Reese." Finch said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you see me as some sort of delicate flower but believe me if I hadn't wanted you to kiss me I would have reacted differently. You surprised me and then you left. I thought you regretted your hasty decision and decided to leave it alone."

"Why would I regret it?" Reese asked perplexed. 

Finch turned to give the younger man an exasperated look before he walked awkwardly over until he was pressed up into the heat haze that John's body let off. He stared directly into Reese's eyes not even pretending to need his glasses.

"I'm not exactly in the first flush of youth Mr. Reese. I have a bit of a pot belly, severe spinal damage, and a nasty enough temper I'm undoubtedly heading towards grumpy old man territory. I can continue listing my faults but none of those matter. If you want me. You may have me."

Finch leaned into that heat and finally allowed himself to rest his head against John's chest. The steady thump, thumpthump, thump of John's chest was enough to cool the last of his temper and he let himself relax into it. Reese's arms slowly, so slowly, rose up and wrapped around him lightly. Finch sighed softly and let the younger man hold the majority of his weight for several long moments before he pulled away with a light flush blooming on his cheeks at his actions.

"Now we should get dressed before we head back to the hotel."

Reese snorted even as he rubbed an absent minded hand against the warmth that had bloomed on and in his chest from Finch's embrace.

"Wouldn't want to offend the taxi drivers."

"I brought a rental."

Reese raised an eyebrow before he looked out the window at the cracked parking lot.

"I'm amazed it's still in one piece after spending the night in this area."

"Yes." Finch sniffed faux haughtily. "Well, for the price I paid for a secure vehicle I wouldn't be surprised if it bit anybody that got too close."

"I bow to your superior transportation."

Finch turned away and muttered something that sounded like. You're damn right.

Reese slid forward hesitantly and placed a light kiss on the start of mangled white scar tissue on Finch's neck before he retreated quickly to the bathroom.

Finch paused for a brief moment and let a slight smile crease his face before he pulled his dress shirt back on and started to button it up.


End file.
